


Khwahish

by The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi



Series: Raazi Canon Fics [2]
Category: Bollywood - Fandom, Raazi
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bollywood, Drabble, Gen, Pre-wedding sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20717813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi/pseuds/The_Dark_Enchantress_Ruhi
Summary: Khwahish, meaning "wish" in English.Hidayat's heart broke into a million pieces every time he looked at her. Her radiant demeanor had turned sombre. She had changed dramatically, and he was responsible for it.





	Khwahish

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Raazi, and the idea that someone can own something so beautiful is surreal, to be honest. All rights to Raazi belong to Dharma productions and Junglee pictures.
> 
> The piece of poetry this work begins with is also not mine—It belongs to an amazing poet, the late Siyaramsharan Gupt.
> 
> The word "khwahish" is an Urdu word which means "wish" in English.

“देख रहा था–जो सुस्थिर हो

नहीं बैठती थी क्षण भर,

हाय! वही चुपचाप पड़ी थी

अटल शांति सी धारण कर।”

सियारामशरण गुप्त, एक फूल की चाह

* * *

(Translation)

“I was watching–her who was still

Not even for a moment,

Oh! She was lying quietly

With an air of uncanny silence around her.”

Siyaramsharan Gupt, Ek phool ki chah (A wish for a flower)

* * *

Hidayat’s heart broke into a million pieces every time he looked at her now. Her radiant demeanor had turned sombre. She had changed dramatically, and he was responsible for this change. 

She was not the Sehmat who used to smile brightly at butterflies fluttering in the garden anymore, the Sehmat who used to grin cheekily while asking her mother for loquat, the Sehmat who was optimistic always. You could practically feel it.

She was now the Sehmat who had been forced into war, the Sehmat who was pondering death, the Sehmat who had undergone training as a spy. 

She was not the same Sehmat whose presence was made known to every corner of the house anymore, the one who was always onto a task with a vigour and a bright smile—She had now turned into the Sehmat who was facing a near impossible, more than dangerous and trying task, all because of her love for her country. Love for her country, which was a part of their family’s legacy. 

Hidayat the patriot was proud, but Hidayat the father was scared. More than anything, he was saddened. It was harsh to be sending his daughter—his only child, his Sehmat—straight into the heart of danger. The guilt was heart wrenching—another stab to his already wounded conscience.

He sorely wished he had consulted Teji before making his decision, but impulsiveness was his fatal flaw—his father had told him so. He acted before thinking. He remembered his Abbu warning him several times against this trait of his. 

Hidaya sighed. He wished he had been wiser. He wished he hadn't imparted such altruism into her. He wished he had been a better father. He wished she’d smile again. He wished he could turn back time, for he had turned his radiant daughter sombre, and he’d give anything to be able to undo it.


End file.
